


Our World Is Slowly Dying (I'm Not Wasting No More Time)

by MidnightsVioletHaze



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Summer, Teenagers, Thor and Loki traipse around Europe, Traveling, vacationing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightsVioletHaze/pseuds/MidnightsVioletHaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plane tickets are a graduation gift. </p><p>Loki and Thor explore Europe and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our World Is Slowly Dying (I'm Not Wasting No More Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to 'Prayer in C' by Lilly Wood & The Prick and Robin Schulz and my own short trips to Europe made me want to write Thor and Loki being carefree and young (and rich) tourists in some of the most beautiful places in the world.

_Long Island, New York_

The plane tickets are a gift for graduating in the top percent of their class and getting into Ivy League colleges.

Thor and Loki have been talking about exploring Europe together for a few years now. The tickets are ostensibly from both of their parents, but Loki is certain that Frigga did the actual choosing and Odin just threw some money at it. This theory is backed by the fact that they’re seated in Economy rather than Business class: Frigga is more down to Earth than her husband.

They don’t pack much; they’ll have their credit cards. Loki considers bringing his fake ID, but he’s old enough to drink, if not purchase, alcohol in the countries they plan on visiting and Thor promises to do the buying. He’s just turned eighteen and incredibly proud of it. Loki is a year younger though they’ve been in the same grade since middle school.

Much to Frigga’s chagrin, the boys don’t plan their trip too thoroughly. Thor’s modus operandi is to float through life easily, relying on charisma and good fortune. He’s impulsive and tends to go with his gut. Loki is a planner but at the same time is prone to changing his mind on the spot, rendering those plans useless. He’s a quick thinker anyway, so he gets by.

* * *

 

_Hamburg, Germany_

The flight is entirely too long. Thor is overexcited and spends much of the time with his face glued to the window. Loki claims the aisle seat happily and watches subpar movies the entire time. Neither of them sleep. Halfway through the flight, Thor steals one of Loki’s earphones and they stay with their heads huddled together until landing.

Hamburg is a shock to their systems. The language is jarring and harsh on their ears, though luckily the hotel they stay at is manned by multilingual employees. Their mother had booked them a suite with two bedrooms, the expense justified by the horror of the thought of her two babies being all alone in a foreign country and not even sharing living quarters.

The excitement of traveling has them exhausting the more interesting tourist attractions within the first three days. They wake with the sun and explore the city, going on walking tours, visiting churches and museums and even the zoo. By the fourth day the language has become more familiar to them and they begin to see the beauty in it.

Of course at night they frequent bars, drinking their fill of German beer. Thor naturally attracts all the other English-speaking bar-goers and even keeps up halting conversations with the locals with his typical bright enthusiasm. They turn to him like flowers to the sun, soaking in his golden glory. Some nights Loki will play along and put his own considerable charm to use. Enthralled faces will lean in close, straining to hear his low voice over the bar music. Other nights Loki will be biting and unfriendly. He’ll provoke those around him until Thor is forced to get to his feet and put himself between his brother and any who might try to strike him.

Thor takes both of these attitudes in stride. The origins of Loki’s differing moods are unknown to him, but he is well used to their presence. He doesn’t mind them; they are but one of Loki’s many facets and Thor treasures them all. And it’s not like Thor doesn’t enjoy a good bar brawl.

On the fourth night Loki suggests a club. Though back home they regularly snuck into bars once house parties grew boring, they’ve only been clubbing together the one time and it was not a good experience. But Loki had gone without Thor after that and had immensely enjoyed himself. Thor agrees genially enough and so they find one with the longest line, logic dictating that it should be the best one.

Once inside, Loki goes straight to the dance floor and allows himself to get lost in the crowd. The music is fantastic and Loki loves the feeling of surrendering himself to a heavy beat and an ocean of bodies until he can barely differentiate his heartbeat from the music and his own limbs from the sweaty masses around him.

Thor settles by the bar and keeps an eye on his brother. He finds it difficult to disappear into a crowd which makes it impossible to so wholly enjoy clubbing as Loki does. He gets approached several times over the course of acquiring a drink, but luckily his size intimidates people from getting too handsy. Loki doesn’t have this advantage. Loki slips between other dancers, going easily when they wind arms around his waist or shoulders and tug him close. Thor watches Loki throw his hands up in the air, green eyes shut as three women and two men close in around him. Suddenly Thor recalls why he hadn’t liked clubbing the previous time he tried it.

Loki blinks his eyes open when the song abruptly changes from a hypnotic pulse to something more upbeat. His green eyes catch on Thor’s and he huffs out a breath at the sight of his brother leaning against the bar, so far away from the action. On a whim, he glides forward, the crowd parting for him with ease. Grabbing hold of Thor’s arm, Loki leads his brother back to the heart of the dance floor. The song playing is an old one they both recognize and Loki uses it to coax his brother into dancing. He twists and turns in exaggerated motions with the aim of making Thor laugh and loosen up and slowly Thor loses the stiffness holding him at bay and begins to dance.

Laughing, Thor allows Loki to spin him in a wide circle, disturbing other dancers though they hardly react. Loki’s eyes are blown wide and Thor knows that he’s on something, but it seems like a harmless amount of M, nothing to be worried about. Loki is always particularly sweet on M. He’s uninhibited and shamelessly happy and gets incredibly concerned if he gets the inkling that others are not as elated, as ecstatic. And so Thor lets Loki cajole him into having a good time.

The DJ blows through several upbeat, older, well-loved songs before switching to something a little slower, more sensual. Thor takes it as his cue to head back to the bar, but Loki doesn’t release his hand. Instead his younger brother presses himself closer to Thor, still smiling and blissfully unaware of anything other than relishing in the music. Loki sways his hips to the beat and Thor gulps. Hesitantly, Thor slides his hands down to hold Loki’s narrow waist and receives a beaming smile in return. Loki moves closer still, till their fronts are perfectly aligned, and then rests his head on Thor’s shoulder with a contented sigh.

They fit together perfectly. Thor glances around nervously, but nobody is paying them any mind. Why would they? Here Thor and Loki are just two strangers among hundreds. This isn’t their small hometown where everybody knows everybody else.

Here they aren’t the sons of Odin. They are simply Thor and Loki.

Thor relaxes, lets his hands drift down to grip Loki’s hips. Loki moves like liquid, his unnaturally hot hands trailing down Thor’s bare arms in fascination. “You feel so cold. So nice,” he whispers hotly into Thor’s ear with a dizzy grin. Thor is thoroughly entranced. He dips his head, lips brushing against Loki’s cheek and then the music changes again, blasting loud and energetic, and Loki is slipping away from him.

Dancing wildly with abandon, Loki continues to move even as he feels every cell in his body vibrate along with the bass. At least an hour passes as he and Thor jump along to nameless techno songs that blend together in a wave of sound. They retreat from the dance floor not long after though, because Loki is thirsty and Thor is concerned by the grinding of his brother’s teeth.

They end up walking back to the hotel, fingers intertwined and hair dripping with sweat.

Things change after that.

The next day when they are out in the city, Thor nursing a hangover and Loki thankfully having slept through the post-M crash, they keep in constant contact. They sit too closely together on the boat tour of the Alster Lake and eat lunch with their feet occasionally nudging. When they loiter around the shopping centre, Loki slides dozens of pairs of sunglasses onto the bridge of Thor’s nose, fingers lingering on the sides of his face. As they walk, Thor’s hand hovers a hairsbreadth away from the small of Loki’s back.

It’s a little more real in the light of day when they’re both sober. They’re both infinitely more cautious.

They’ve never done this before, not really.

They kissed, once. Thor fourteen to Loki’s thirteen. It had been chaste and all too brief. Wonderful and scary in how good it felt. But their parents had been right downstairs and the fear had clawed at the backs of their throats – _what if they see?_ They had made a tacit agreement to resurrect their brotherly boundaries and had never spoken of it again.

But oh, how they’d _wanted._

And now, perhaps, they can have.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying and neither of them can quite stop looking over their shoulders. That night, they go to sleep in their own rooms in the suite. Frigga chose it, after all, and they wouldn’t put it past her to have the staff report back to her on their well-being.

Early the next morning Loki books them another two-bedroom suite in Paris along with two plane tickets.

* * *

 

_Paris, France_

The flight is gloriously short and it’s not long until they’re checking into the hotel. Luckily though they’ve lived in the States most of their lives, by virtue of birth they are afforded European passports which expedite the process. After dumping their luggage in their rooms and quickly changing clothes, they set off to explore the city. They just walk around, familiarizing themselves with the street names and general lay of the land. Ducking into a café, they order croissants and wine, eating out on the patio. Pleasantly buzzed by the time they leave, Thor and Loki find their way to Place de la Concorde where they wander around for a good hour, basking in its beauty. They sit facing each other on the base of the south fountain, knees drawn up to their chests, toes touching. Old stories become new when whispered to each other under the spray of the water and they laugh fondly at shared childhood memories. They tease each other with both words and touches and when their stomachs start to grumble Thor pulls Loki to his feet by the hand and doesn’t let go.

After dinner they fall into the same bed in the room farthest from the door, limbs tangled and faces flushed with happiness.

Sainte-Chapelle, Notre Dame and Sacre-Coeur are their stops the next day and Musee d’Orsay and the Louvre the day after. They wile away a week in Paris perpetually tipsy from drinking too much wine, though they eat enough to balance it out. The food here agrees with Loki. Thor had favoured German cuisine, but Loki could live off of French pastries for the rest of his life. When they visit the Arc De Triomphe, Thor finds himself captivated by the sunburnt flush across Loki’s nose and cheeks. Unthinkingly, he clasps his hand around Loki’s neck and pulls, pressing his lips to his younger brother’s. They share their first kiss in four years under the arch.

It’s like a seal is broken.

Picnicking at the Jardin du Luxembourg, they exchange sweet, syrupy kisses as they feed each other macaroons. On a boat tour of the Seine River they sneak off to make out languidly, returning to their seats with swollen lips and bright eyes. They’re still careful around the hotel, at least until they get to their rooms. Being affectionate in front of strangers that they’ll never see again is one thing, but around staff that they encounter daily is entirely different.

Yet one night when Loki is returning from the restroom, walking back to their favourite restaurant in the hotel he spies the waitress that had been serving them that night already hovering over their table, most likely inquiring about dessert. He only manages to catch the tail ends of her sentence.

“…and your husband?”

Loki’s heart stutters in his chest. It’s preposterous. Although Thor can occasionally pass for mid-twenties, together the two of them look too young to be married. But he knows that their differing looks make it difficult to see the relation between them and with a shared surname it might be the next best explanation.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Loki finds himself striding forward and pulling Thor out of his seat. He shoves them into the elevator and presses the button for their floor…and then every button before it.

“Wha –?”

Loki drops to his knees and licks his lips, green eyes burning into Thor’s dilated blue.

* * *

 

_Verona, Italy_

A second idyllic week passes in Paris before they move on to Verona. Thor has booked them a bed and breakfast and Loki is dubious at first, but the small cottage is quite lovely. Better yet, the owner of the place, a kind faced middle-aged man, lives next door and is happy to leave them to their own devices once he gives them the keys and offers them a pair of bicycles.

Riding around the city, Loki looks at home in all his hipster glory while Thor looks a little ridiculous on such a tiny bike in comparison to his broad frame. They comb through several Piazzas, spending too much money on souvenirs for their friends and parents. Stopping for lunch at a small bistro, Thor confesses that he prefers Americanized pizza. Loki shakes his head in disdain but allows Thor to give him pepperoni-flavoured kisses over the table anyway.

The bed and breakfast is booked for two and a half weeks, so they decide to really settle down. They go grocery shopping and Loki makes Thor lug a huge box full of sparkling water back to their kitchen. He’s determined to learn to love it. It’s all for naught because he can’t get past the first bottle and neither of them can really cook, so they end up eating out most of the time despite the well-stocked pantry. It’s nice though, to be able to make a simple breakfast together, elbows and hips bumping in the tiny kitchen.

Everything about the cottage is tiny except the bed. It’s a decadent thing nearly too large for the room. There’s only the one. Thor and Loki spend hours lounging on it exchanging soulful kisses and reverent caresses. They have sex for the first time their second night in Verona, Thor’s tan body encapsulating Loki’s slighter form. The next morning sees them waking up with bruises and love bites, bodies pleasantly sore, Loki’s head pillowed against Thor’s chest where the long strands of Thor’s blond hair mingle with Loki’s own nest of pitch black.

They savor Verona, having enough time to move through the sights at a sluggish pace. They eat gelato by the truck load and see a play at the Roman Theatre. They visit churches and castles and go on long bike rides. They stand under Juliette’s balcony, Loki grumbling all the while. But as they stand surrounded by declarations of love that people from all around the world have left, Thor kisses Loki softly, blue eyes heavy with emotion and Loki doesn’t say a word.

* * *

 

_Venice, Italy_

It would be remiss to skip over Venice, so they spend three days there. Unfortunately staying at anything other than a hotel is difficult, but it’s not like they spend too much time indoors anyway. They cram in as many Basilicas and Piazzas they can manage and of course take a long gondola ride. It’s blistering hot. Thor spends the three days clothed in muscle tees and shorts, storm blue eyes hidden behind Ray Bans. Loki concedes to rolling his jeans up to his ankles and wears a trilby he bought from one of the stands, his feathery raven hair flipping out beneath the rim.

Thor has been snapping pictures for the entire trip. Some he uploads to Facebook and others to Instagram; he wants his friends and parents to be able to see what he sees with the same wonder and excitement. He’s been trying to balance out the photos to an even amount of ‘sights’ and himself and Loki, but in Venice he starts to lose track. The blazing sun highlights the jut of Loki’s cheekbones too beautifully and the sheen of sweat that covers Loki from head to toe is oddly alluring. It doesn’t help that Loki’s always been a natural model, every casual movement he makes filled with such grace and captured on film as if he were purposefully posing. However, unlike Thor who will grin widely whenever he notices the lens of a camera aimed at him, Loki likes to be contrary, alternating between scowling and pulling funny faces. Thor keeps those too, but he also tries to be more covert to get some organic shots: Loki savoring a spoonful of gelato, Loki’s face upturned to the sky as he surveys a tall tower, Loki drinking espresso, Loki dipping his toes into a canal, Loki sprawled out in their bed with his hair mussed and eyes sleepy.

They’re gorgeous. Each and every last one of them. But these ones Thor won’t share.

He forces Loki into selfies though Loki despairs of the practice. These are some of the only ones where Loki is smiling despite his awareness of the camera. Thor thinks of college on the horizon, of a lonely dorm room miles away from everyone he loves. He thinks of covering the bare walls with these photos, of Hamburg and Paris and Verona and Venice, of Thor and Loki and of just Loki. He thinks about new friends asking about the boy in his photos, thinks about how his tongue would undoubtedly stumble over the words _brother_ and _lover_.

He stops thinking about it.

* * *

 

_London, England_

They fly out to London next, renting a warehouse-turned-flat they found online. Their balcony overlooks the Thames and Thor wakes them up early the next morning so they can drink tea and eat scones out there as they watch the sunrise. Neither of them actually likes tea, so they only do that the one time before switching over to gourmet coffee for the rest of the mornings. They keep the scones, though.

Three weeks are spent touring around, taking in the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, St. Paul’s, Westminster and Greenwich. Entire days are invested in the V&A and the Tate Modern. They become adept at using the tube and the LDR. They watch several Shakespeare plays and go on many pub crawls and every night they collapse into bed together and devote hours to taking each other apart at the seams. Thor somehow convinces Loki to give the Pedibus a try despite the unfortunate name and the alarming premise; Loki lets Thor do the peddling for both of them and drinks twice as much.

Frigga Skypes them on a Sunday afternoon. Odin is pacing in the background as he tries to work but ends up paying too much attention to the call. They chat easily and Thor gets complimented on his photos while Loki gets light-heartedly scolded for never smiling in them. Thor and Loki relate their adventures to their riveted parents, Frigga more openly than Odin, and by the end of the call they can see tears gathering in their mother’s eyes and Odin is dropping not-so-subtle hints and they know that they are sorely missed.

And they know that they have to go back.

* * *

 

_Paris, France_

They book the return flight for two days later and then an impromptu train back to Paris for later that evening. It’s only a three hour trip and they sit in silence, Loki’s head tucked into the crook of Thor’s neck, their fingers interlocked on top of Thor’s knee. They dine at the top of the Eiffel Tower, legs woven together beneath cover of the tablecloth. They hold hands openly across the table and share lingering kisses uncaring of the other diners. As the evening winds down and dessert has passed, Loki spontaneously drops to one knee, catching the eyes of everyone around them. His proposal to Thor is beautifully done and when the words “Will you marry me?” finally leave his lips he’s got everyone hooked.

But Loki only has eyes for Thor who smiles with trembling lips and says “Yes.”

They receive a standing ovation and a free bottle of champagne and nobody says anything about their age, so convincing is their love. If pressed, Loki will say that he did it for a laugh, for the attention, that he didn't mean it. But Thor doesn’t ask. He merely presses Loki onto the mattress once they reach their hotel room and worships his body until they’re both screaming out into the night.

* * *

 

_Homeward bound_

Their flight back home is early the next morning and they board the plane with bloodshot eyes and sex mussed hair. As the moment they touch ground draws closer, Thor drags them into the cramped bathroom and they fuck desperately against the unstable door. They kiss for a long time after they finish, neither wanting the reprieve to end. Thor maps Loki’s mouth with his tongue, knowing that once they get off this plane he might never get the chance again. He’s vicious, jaw straining, and when he pulls back Loki’s cheeks are covered in beard burn and both their lips are bruised. Loki for his part keeps his legs locked tightly around Thor’s waist, long fingers buried in blond hair, pulling just a little too hard. They're panting into each others' mouths, tears slipping down their faces, when Thor whispers, “Run away with me.”

Loki pulls away to stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. He squirms out of Thor’s embrace and once Thor has reluctantly set him safely back on the ground, Loki leaves the bathroom, shutting the door on Thor’s forlorn face.

He takes a single, shuddering breath and then goes back to his seat.

They clean up as best they can in the airport bathroom for good reason because Frigga and Odin are waiting for them at the exit, pulling them into bear hugs. It seems their parents missed them too much.

They don’t get a moment alone for the rest of the summer and suddenly they’re off to college, separated by several state lines.

* * *

 

_Four years later_

Loki walks past his mailbox absentmindedly and then has to double back. There’s a corner of an envelope sticking out of it and Loki stares it down in confusion. All of Loki’s communication is online or virtual in some way. Even his bills come in email form. He pulls it out and brings it into his house along with his textbooks, dropping the whole pile on the coffee table.

‘ _Loki_ ’ the envelope says, messy lettering decorating its face.

Loki knows that handwriting.

He tears open the envelope nervously, though he doesn’t know why. They see each other whenever they go home and they even text sometimes. He’s got an invitation to Thor’s convocation sitting in his inbox right now, opened but left unanswered for a week.

The thing is that Loki doesn’t really know what’s going on in Thor’s life. He had deleted his Facebook account halfway through freshman year as more and more pretty girls started appearing in Thor’s photos, unwilling to witness the relationship status change. Though Frigga had tried to speak about Thor during their weekly Skype dates Loki had avoided the subject so expertly that eventually she stopped. Even when they meet face to face over breaks there is an implicit understanding to refrain from talking about their separate college lives. Talking about shared memories is worse, so really they don’t talk much of anything when they see each other.

It’s unbearable. Loki tries to avoid long trips home if possible.

He doesn't know what to expect when he reaches into the envelope with faltering fingers and pulls out the thin piece of paper within.

He stares in wonder.

It’s a one-way plane ticket. To Paris. For this summer. Scrawled on the back are four words.

 _Run away with me_.

* * *

This time, Loki does.

**Author's Note:**

> More Modern!AU because apparently that is the only thing I can write. I'm not quite satisfied with some parts, but what can you do?
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!


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